


center ice

by astrologians



Category: Stasis (Webcomic)
Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, Ice Skating AU, M/M, lazy updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrologians/pseuds/astrologians
Summary: Dezhrean hates morning practices. 7:30 is far too early to be awake, let alone worrying about landing quads and whether or not his step sequence is perfect for competition yet.  He’s not even a person until nine, it's just his soulless body skating around the rink.So why, in the name of the goddess, was there a herd of grown men occupying his ice when he arrived for said practice this morning.--college hockey + ice skating au





	center ice

Dezhrean hates morning practices. 7:30 is far too early to be awake, let alone worrying about landing quads and whether or not his step sequence is perfect for competition yet.  He’s not even a _person_ until nine, it's just his soulless body skating around the rink.

So why, in the name of the goddess, was there a herd of grown men occupying _his_ ice when he arrived for said practice this morning.

He rubs at his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, the group of skaters will be gone and that in the end they were just some hallucination his poor sleep deprived brain decided to conjure to torture him. But nope, when Dezhrean looks back at the rink from his place in the bleachers, they're still there.

It's too loud, too many people shouting back and forth, and all he wants to do is get on with practice but he can't because, he realizes as he notices their jerseys, there's a hockey team commandeering his ice time.

Perfect.

Which is to say, it's not perfect at all. He looks around blearily for someone in charge, and spots a scary looking woman talking to a less scary looking teenage girl. The woman is watching the team with keen interest, sometimes looking down at the clipboard in her hand, while keeping up with conversation. Even half asleep, and across the rink, he could tell she was the highest authority figure here. The woman practically radiated it.

Dezhrean narrows his eyes, and marches over towards the pair. The teenager glances over, and tugs on the woman’s sleeve to get her attention.

By the time he reaches them, they’re both staring at him.

“That’s my ice,” he frowns. “You’re running into my slot. I gotta train too, you know.”

The woman, Dezhrean reads the name “ _Aria_ ” off her shirt, frowns back. “Interesting tone. Do you always approach honest mistakes with hostility?” Dezhrean gapes, mouth moving up and down, no words coming out, as Aria continues. “What’s your name?”

He recovers fast enough to introduce himself, and the girl’s eyes go wide behind Aria, who hums. “Practicing for Worlds I take it?” When he nods, she makes a thoughtful noise, turning to the girl behind her. “Cammie, go talk to the rink director. We’re gonna need to cut this practice short, and find ourselves a new time slot. These boys are nowhere near ready for the playoffs and I’ll be damned if they enter in this state.” She brings the whistle around her neck to her lips, and Dezhrean has just enough time to brace himself before the shrill noise pierces his tender eardrums.

Aria’s whistle echoes through the stadium. However, only one of the players looks up, and Dezhrean is too far away to spot anything but the large “C” on his chest. She points to the players’ box, and the figure nods, shouts some things at the others, before skating off the ice.

“Aviglon’s the one to talk to,” she tells him, inclining him to the figure. “He does most of the scheduling, and if you want your ice, he's the fastest way to get those boys off it. They’ll listen to whatever he says.” She looks over at him, and winks. “Good luck.”

She turns away, and Cammie gives him one last look before following.

Dezhrean looks between their two retreating forms, and the figure stepping off the ice. Fine, then.

He marches down the steps to the rink’s edge, dropping his bag on one of the benches on his way. Aviglon’s taking off his helmet by the time Dezhrean gets there and -

Oh.

“Hey,” Aviglon says, smiling warmly. “What can I do for you?”

Distantly, Dezhrean knows exactly what his friend Ariadne would respond with in this situation. He almost says it too, but fortunately he can gather his wits before ‘ _me_ ’ passes from his lips. “It's my ice time. You're taking up my slot.” Not the most eloquent in explanations, but no one told him Aviglon was pretty.

Aviglon blinks, and then his eyes widen, “Shit, is it 7:30 already? I'm so sorry, we're about to wrap up.”

“No, no,” Dezhrean coughs. “It’s alright. I - uh - I can wait.”

“No it’s not,” he tells Dezhrean. He looks over his shoulder and shouts something about showers, and locker rooms over his shoulder, and there's a collection of cheers from the team. “Give us ten minutes and we'll be gone, fifteen tops.” Aviglon looks back to see the entire team already almost to them and gives Dezhrean a sheepish grin. “Make that five.”

One by one, the players file out of the box, brushing past the two of them. Even with the pads and helmets, Dezhrean can tell they're all sweating and exhausted. “How long have you been practicing?”

Aviglon opens his mouth to speak, but a passing player hears him and responds first. Dezhrean reads ‘ _Lakelark’_ on the jersey. “Since five,” he points towards Aviglon, glaring without any real anger behind it. “Be _cause_ our wonderful captain here hates us all.”

“If I hated you, Ezra,” Aviglon tells him, “you'd have to do a lot more sprints. And you'll be thanking me when we win the cup this year.” Ezra waves away Aviglon’s comment, muttering about how five a.m. is too damn early to be slammed into a wall repeatedly before stalking off.

Aviglon laughs quietly, and oh no that's pretty _too_ , before stepping out of the box and gesturing for Dezhrean to step in. “All yours. I'll get the zamboni to clean it up for you too.”

Dezhrean mumbles a thank you, hoping that his heart isn’t really beating as loud as he thinks it is, before stepping inside and dumping his bag onto the bench.

“Have a good practice, Dezhrean,” He says with a short wave, heading towards the locker room.

Dezhrean stops, and glances back at Aviglon’s retreating form, still close enough that he wouldn’t even have to shout to get his attention. “Hey,” he calls out, and Aviglon stops to turn. “How’d you know my name? I didn’t introduce myself.”

“Oh, right,” Aviglon hums, but Dezhrean is positive he can see his face redden a little. “It said your name on the timesheet. I’ve seen you skating here a few times too, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You’re really good, by the way.”

Dezhrean raises an eyebrow, and smiles. “Really? Well, I’m glad I could impress you.” He bites his lip, before adding. “I’d like to know the name of the person I’m impressing, though. Feels weird, you knowing my name and me not knowing your’s.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is creepy,” Aviglon corrects, pulling a face. He pushes some of hair out of his face, before continuing. “Sorry. My name’s Vier Aviglon.” He offers Dezhrean his hand, and Dezhrean shakes it, hoping his palm isn’t too sweaty. There’s the distant sound of something crashing, and a series of cheers, that causes Vier to swear under his breath. “Ok, now I really gotta go. See you around?”

Chuckling, Dezhrean waves. “See you around, Captain Aviglon.”

“Just Vier, please.” He corrects, jogging backward before hurrying after the rest of his team. “Don’t forget to stretch!”

Dezhrean lifts his hand, waving goodbye to Vier’s retreating form. Vier looks back one more time, waving back, before ducking what he assumes is the locker room.

He stands there for a few more minutes, hand still raised, heart pounding.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back at it again, folks
> 
> this will be a series but i don't think it'll have a set update schedule? i'll just update it whenever i think of the next part! 
> 
> anyways, hmu at @vieraviglon


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